He looked at me.
“It can’t look like I walked to the hospital like this. Too many questions. I have to drive. You hide in the back and tell me where to go. Is there something you can hide under?”
“Okay,” he said slowly. He put the car into reverse and pulled it back into the deeper brush. “Okay. I’ll hide. But if you take us somewhere I don’t tell you to go…”
Oh! Melanie was stung by his doubt, as was I.
My voice was flat. “Shoot me.”
He didn’t answer. He got out, leaving the engine running. I slid across the cup holders into his seat. I heard the trunk slam.
Jared climbed into the backseat, a thick plaid blanket under his arm.
“Turn right at the road,” he said.
The car was an automatic, but it had been a long time and I was unsure behind the wheel. I moved ahead carefully, pleased to find that I remembered how to drive. The highway was still empty. I pulled out onto the road, my heart reacting to the open space again.
“Lights,” Jared said. His voice came from low on the bench.
I searched till I found the switch, then flicked them on. They seemed horribly bright.
We weren’t far from Tucson—I could see a yellowish glow of color against the sky. The lights of the city ahead.
“You could drive a little faster.”
“I’m right at the limit,” I protested.
He paused for a second. “Souls don’t speed?”
I laughed. The sound was only a tad hysterical. “We obey all laws, traffic laws included.”
The lights became more than a glow—they turned into individual points of brightness. Green signs informed me of my exit options.
“Take Ina Road.”
I followed his instructions. He kept his voice low, though, enclosed as we were, we could both have shouted.
It was hard to be in this unfamiliar city. To see houses and apartments and stores with signs lit up. To know I was surrounded, outnumbered. I imagined what it must feel like for Jared. His voice was remarkably calm. But he’d done this before, many times.
Other cars were on the road now. When their lights washed my windshield, I cringed in terror.
Don’t fall apart now, Wanda. You have to be strong for Jamie. This won’t work if you can’t do that.
I can. I can do it.
I concentrated on Jamie, and my hands were steadier on the wheel.
Jared directed me through the mostly sleeping city. The Healing facility was just a small place. It must have been a medical building once—doctors’ offices, rather than an actual hospital. The lights were bright through most of the windows, through the glass front. I could see a woman behind a greeting desk. She didn’t look up at my headlights. I drove to the darkest corner of the parking lot.
I slid my arms through the straps of the backpack. It wasn’t new, but it was in good shape. Perfect. There was just one more thing to do.
“Quick, give me the knife.”
“Wanda… I know you love Jamie, but I really don’t think you could use it. You’re not a fighter.”
“Not for them, Jared. I need a wound.”
He gasped. “You have a wound. That’s enough!”
“I need one like Jamie’s. I don’t know enough about Healing. I have to see exactly what to do. I would have done it before, but I wasn’t sure I’d be able to drive.”
“No. Not again.”
“Give it to me now. Someone will notice if I don’t go inside soon.”
Jared thought it through quickly. He was the best, as Jeb had said, because he could see what had to be done and do it fast. I heard the steely sound of the knife coming out of the sheath.
“Be very careful. Not too deep.”
“You want to do it?”
He inhaled sharply. “No.”
“Okay.”
I took the ugly knife. It had a heavy handle and was very sharp; it came to a tapered point at the tip.
I didn’t let myself think about it. I didn’t want to give myself a chance to be a coward. The arm, not the leg—that’s all I paused to decide. My knees were scarred. I didn’t want to have to hide that, too.
I held my left arm out; my hand was shaking. I braced it against the door and then twisted my head so that I could bite down on the headrest. I held the knife’s handle awkwardly but tightly in my right hand. I pressed the point against the skin of my forearm so I wouldn’t miss. Then I closed my eyes.
Jared was breathing too hard. I had to be fast or he would stop me.
Just pretend it’s a shovel opening the ground, I told myself.
I jammed the knife into my arm.
The headrest muffled my scream, but it was still too loud. The knife fell from my hand—jerking sickeningly out from the muscle—and then clunked against the floor.
“Wanda!” Jared rasped.
I couldn’t answer yet. I tried to choke back the other screams I felt coming. I’d been right not to do this before driving.
“Let me see!”